


and I am almost afraid to believe it

by blue_eyed



Series: Summer Pthon 2012 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_eyed/pseuds/blue_eyed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Summerpornathon challenge 3: Non-human characters</p>
<p>Title from Emilie Autumn's poem 'Ghost'</p>
            </blockquote>





	and I am almost afraid to believe it

It starts with a dream, as these things do. He woke up, panting, shuddering with the last of his pleasure, his sleep trousers a mess. He couldn’t remember the face of his dreamtime partner, only the vaguest memory of a deep chuckle as he arched into a masculine hand remained.   
###

“Who’s there?” Arthur says demandingly as his bed curtains twitch. He draws his sword and walks slowly towards his bed, ears straining for any sound.

He rips the curtains open, heart pounding. He stops short when he realises there’s no one there. _Wind_ , he thinks, even though he knows his window is shut.

###

“Arthur.” Arthur jumps, swirling around. He sees no one but it wasn’t his imagination, he knows he heard his name. 

“Who’s there? Show yourself at once!” 

There was a cool brush to his arm, and then a shimmer appeared before him. It was something like the trick of the light over the road on a hot day. A rippling, in the shape of a man.

“Hello Arthur.” 

“What are you?”

“I am Merlin.” 

###

Arthur goes hunting, to clear his head. Maybe he’s sickening for something, and the visions are a manifestation of his illness? 

He spends a week driving his men hard, coming back with deer, boar, and fowl. Merlin hasn’t shown himself once. He heads back to his room, the excitement of the hunt still hot in his veins.

He starts to strip and feels a cool draft. He turns, wondering if the window is open, and freezes.

“Merlin.” 

“You didn’t think I was real, did you?”

“I considered it.” 

Merlin glides closer, and Arthur shudders as Merlin touches him. 

“I am very real.” Merlin whispers, and the cool touch moves down into Arthur’s trousers. “Let me show you.” 

###

Merlin reappears often, mostly at night. Arthur doesn’t mention it – him – it, to anyone.

###

Arthur grits his teeth as many eligible daughters are paraded in front of him. Their simpering makes him clench his hands behind his back. 

He wonders where his ghost (for that’s what he is, Arthur can admit, in the privacy of his head) is now? Is he watching from the corner, sulking as Arthur kisses the hand of another potential suit? 

One lady catches his eye. Her dark eyes are knowing, as if she hates this ceremony as much as he. He nods at her and asks her to dance with him. They twirl around and Arthur is shocked by how warm her skin is. 

###

His room is a mess when he returns, the curtains blow out of the window, and his bedsheets in disarray. He swallows hard, rage warring with nerves. He’s never seen Merlin react so badly to anything before.

That night is brutal. Merlin’s cold touch is everywhere – Arthur’s skin breaks out in trails of gooseflesh - and by the time he is finally entered he’s shuddering and begging for something, anything. 

Merlin moves inside him roughly, pain and pleasure mingling. Arthur bites down on his fist as he spills himself so as not to make a noise. 

“Mine, you are mine.” 

###

It is customary for Arthur to set a place for Merlin when he takes his meals in his room. Some nights he sits alone, eyes barely moving off the laden plate set opposite him, looking for any sign of movement. Those nights he ends up taking the food to the stable boys, sharing it out between them, soaking up the gratitude in their small faces.

He spends days jumping every time the wind twitches his curtains, every creak of wood settling. His heart pounds. He spends more time in his room, complaining of a sickness, hoping to feel a cool touch against his cheek

Merlin always returns, Arthur will wake just before sunrise to feel Merlin curled around him, murmuring in his ear.

“I thought you had gone.” 

“I’ll never leave you.” Merlin says.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Do you do this every night with someone else](https://archiveofourown.org/works/684784) by [Venivincere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venivincere/pseuds/Venivincere)
  * [Some Great Beyond](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1450885) by [pensively](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensively/pseuds/pensively)




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